


The Fear of Falling Apart

by theletterelle



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Creepy Insane Asylum, Episode: s03e20 Echo House, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Possessed Stiles, Pretend Cutscene, Slight Ableist Language, will be Jossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1221985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theletterelle/pseuds/theletterelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They unlocked the rooms at 6 AM. “Up up up,” the orderly called out on his way down the hall. “Rise and shine, gentlemen, it’s another lovely day in paradise.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fear of Falling Apart

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is based on a very few scenes and a lot of wishful thinking, but I can't help it. This will be jossed in less than 72 hours. Oh well. Creepy insane asylum is my very favorite horror trope, so I couldn't let this go by.
> 
> Thanks go to [bootson](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bootson) as always for betaing and saving me from a ridiculous mistake that would have made me look the fool. All the love, bb.
> 
> Title is from Panic! at the Disco's "This is Gospel."

They unlocked the rooms at 6 AM. “Up up up,” the orderly called out on his way down the hall. “Rise and shine, gentlemen, it’s another lovely day in paradise.”

Stiles never woke up this early, but it wasn’t waking up if you were never asleep. He hadn’t slept since the shot, since waking up and making the decision no one liked. Scott had almost been in tears, and Lydia had hugged him. The worst was saying goodbye to Dad last night, watching him walk away and leave Stiles there. Stiles couldn’t help it. There was no other responsible course to take.

He had had a front-row seat to the damage the fox had done. Pain. Terror. Death. All done with Stiles’ hands, Stiles’ voice. He didn’t need someone to explain what happened; he had seen it from the inside. The nogitsune fed on the pain Scott had collected. Stiles’ anguish at seeing it all was the dessert.

Stiles wouldn’t let that happen again. The pack was working on the problem. Lydia was positive they could find a way to fix it. And if she was wrong, Scott had made a promise. If nothing else worked, he’d make sure Stiles never got out. 

Stiles shuffled into the hallway along with the rest of the crazies. His rubber sandals squeaked on the formica tiles. The lights hummed above him, and he blinked and shook his head. He needed sound, not white noise. The squeaking helped, especially when he tripped on his way into the dayroom. More squeaking would be good. More talking. More sound, please.

There were trays set out on tables around the room. Stiles saw his name on one. Styrofoam bowl of dry cereal, tiny cardboard cartons of milk and juice, wheat toast and Jello. Really? “Living the cliche,” he mumbled. The meal blurred in front of him. He blinked hard, and pinched the inside of his arm. 

Before he had a chance to actually sit down and eat, he heard someone call “Stilinski!” He turned. A nurse was frowning at a folder. “This is impossible. Stilinski!”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, hurrying over. “Yeah, Stilinski here, what’s up?” The nurse was a big guy, imposing like Stiles figured The Rock would be in person.

“Time for meds,” the man said, handing him a tiny paper cup and a flimsy cone filled with water. His Adderall. Awesome. That would help. He smiled, toasted the nurse, threw it back and gulped water from the cone-shaped cup. 

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue,” said the nurse.

“What?” 

“Mouth check.”

They really were living the cliche. Stiles wasn’t hiding his meds, he _wanted_ his meds. Nothing to hide. He did as he was told, wiggling his tongue around so they were sure to see. “All gone,” he said. The giant nurse waved him away.

The Jello wasn’t bad.

After breakfast they were released into the courtyard, which sounded nice on paper but turned out to be a square of cement surrounded by the walls of Eichen House. Nice. He’d be sure to leave a note on the comment card regarding their advertising.

When he stepped further out into the shaded cloister, he saw someone. Someone he knew, or at least… “Malia?”

She turned and looked at him, confused. He took a careful step forward. “Hey. Stiles. Do you remember me? I’m friends with Scott?” 

Her jaw tightened. Then she punched him in the face.

Stiles staggered and fell. Things spun for a moment before he saw her walking away. Before she could get far the orderlies swarmed. Someone pulled Stiles up and yanked his arms behind his back. “Malia!” he called out. “I need to talk-- I need--” He could see female guards pulling Malia away toward the women’s dorm, and dug his heels in when the men holding him dragged him to the door. “I don’t-- hey, hang on man, I’m not doing--” They were bigger than him. They forced him inside and to the nurses’ station.

“What’s this?” The nurse came out from behind the desk. He was even larger close up. 

“Fighting outside,” an orderly said.

“Hey wait a sec,” Stiles said, jaw throbbing, “I got _hit_ , I wasn’t fighting, come on dude, a girl freakin’ hit me and I went down. Yeah, a girl, I’m not ashamed, a punch is a punch. I don’t know what it was for, but I didn’t start anything, I didn’t even finish anything. Can I talk to her? I need to talk to her.”

The nurse flipped through his folder. “Stilinski. Your first day here, and you’re getting in fights?”

“No, you’re not getting this--”

“Take him to the showers, guys. I’ll note it on the chart.”

“What showers?” They didn’t answer. Stiles let them take him, looking from one to the other like he could read the answer in their faces. “Why showers?”

“You talk too much,” said one of them.

“So I’ve been told,” Stiles said as they went down the hall. “Guys, you can let me go. I’m not gonna argue that I’m being falsely imprisoned or held against my will or anything. I checked myself in on purpose. I’m not saying that I don’t need to be here, I just didn’t hit anyone. I’m against hitting, by and large. Some hitting. Unnecessary hitting.” They entered the showers, a long room with stalls divided by half-walls. “Unnecessary showering too. Why are we here again?”

They let him go. “Strip,” said one, while the other one folded his arms and looked like he hoped Stiles would give them trouble.

Stiles laughed nervously. “I don’t know if you know this,” he said, “but there’s this thing that the police do with adults who get teenage boys naked. It’s called arrest, jail, trial. Statutory rape. All that good stuff.” As he spoke, he tried to move backwards, step by tiny step, until he could get his back against the wall.

“Right,” said one of them. “And there’s this thing we do when a patient refuses to do what we tell him. It’s called loss of privileges. No more outside time. Restraints. Solitary. You want to give that a try, smart guy?”

Stiles wanted to say something, was yearning to say something, but the bigger one came toward him and his courage failed. He ducked his head and pulled off his shirt. When Stiles was naked (this was way different than the locker room, where at least everyone else was more or less naked too) one of the orderlies turned on the shower. The other one took him by the arm and pushed him into the stall. “What are you-- oh God, oh god oh god--”

The water was freezing. For a few heartstopping seconds Stiles couldn’t make words or thoughts or do anything other than gasp out his shock. He lunged for the opening, but the orderlies blocked him. The space was too small to get away, and the walls were too slippery for his floundering arms to haul him up and over. “Let me out.” He was shaking after ten seconds. “No, c’mon let me, don’t--” He grabbed at one of them. The man shoved him back. The water poured over Stiles in a cascade of all-too-familiar icy horror he couldn’t escape. The razor-toothed fox in his head purred. _Delicious. Good boy. Let’s have some more._

“Shut up,” Stiles said. The shower sluiced down his body. “No, no, no, no.”

 _Feel that?_ The fox licked its bandage-wrapped lips. _Hurts. Tasty._

“Go away,” Stiles said. He pressed his hands on the wall, stopped fighting the spray.

_Give it to me._

“No!” Stiles hunched and ducked his head between his elbows.

_Give._

Stiles’s hands slid down the wall. He landed on his knees, head to the floor.

_Now._

“Go away,” he whispered. Tears dripped down his nose and snaked toward the drain.

_You can’t stop me. I’m getting stronger. And you can’t stay awake forever._

“I can too,” said Stiles frantically. He looked up at the men in front of him. “Stop. Please turn it off.”

One looked at the other, who shrugged. “Give him another minute to calm down.”

“I can’t!” Stiles was near hysteria. “You’re making it worse. He wants this, don’t you get it? I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry for the fight, I’ll stay away from everyone so it doesn’t happen again. I’ll calm down when you turn it off, please turn it off, please turn it off.”

He begged until he couldn’t anymore, until the cold became too much and he huddled crying on the cracked tiles. The fox grinned. _Yes._

Stiles couldn’t tell how long it was before the shower finally trickled and died. The orderlies gave him a few seconds then helped him to his feet. He slipped twice, but they caught him before he landed. One of them threw a scratchy towel over his head. He tried without success to coordinate his arms and hands to dry himself off, ending up with the towel bunched at his waist, the ends clutched in his fist.

His breath hitched in his chest, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. “I’m okay,” he said when he could speak again without his teeth chattering. His bare feet slapped against the wet floor as they took him out. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

When they led him back into the hall, everything appeared brighter, with a clarity Stiles didn’t know he could see. “I’m awake,” he said softly to himself. He glanced down at his fingers. 

They opened the door to his room and threw his clothes in after him. He faced them. He grinned. “I’m awake,” he said. His heart bumped in his chest. “Thank you.”

“Get dressed,” said the one at the door, shaking his head as he closed it.

Stiles sat on the bed and breathed in. Everything was lighter. The edges of the tiles were sharp and sparkling in the cold he felt. He reached under the mattress and touched the bottle of extra Adderall he had managed to smuggle in. “I’m awake. And I’m going to stay that way.”

Inside him, the fox chuckled.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [thosecombustibleheads.tumblr.com.](http://thosecombustibleheads.tumblr.com/) It's pretty much 100% Teen Wolf. I love to talk about hurting and cuddling the boys.


End file.
